


Unity

by lepidolite



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lepidolite/pseuds/lepidolite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the Fire the Sword learnt death, from the Water it learnt life, and from the Stone it learnt love.<br/> Surprisingly not crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unity

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here. ](http://oddityisavirtue.livejournal.com/20035.html)

In the beginning there was a smith, and he was the Crafter. From flesh and love he crafted a Queen and a Knight both, and from steel and Fire he crafted the Sword. Having fulfilled his purpose by forging the instruments of the Golden King’s future, the Crafter was delivered to Avalon the very way that he had lived; by steel.

There was a servant, and he was the Enchanter. The Enchanter took up the Sword and presented it before the Great Dragon, who blessed it with fire. The Magic that now sparked within the blade was fed with the flesh of a wraith. However, the hands that fed the Sword were the wrong ones, corrupted and cold as they were, and so the Enchanter cast the Sword into pure waters to cleanse and protect it. 

It was peaceful in the Lake of Avalon. The Magic of the Sword flourished within its waters, the wisdom and power given freely. In its eddies it learnt the mutability of the world. In its soil it learnt the growth of nature. In its inhabitants it learnt the cycle of life, birth and feeding and breeding and death. 

A full year passed. The Lady came in vessel of fire. In her the Sword learnt loss, and mercy. It learnt the touch of the Enchanter’s lips. It learnt the difference between the feminine and the masculine. It learnt humanity.

The Sword that had only known Fire and death now knew Water and life; destruction and fluidity; humanity and nature. 

It was years before the Sword was taken up again. The Lady raised it high, and the Enchanter once again held it in his hands, uncertain but strong in his purpose. The Sword felt the nearness of the Golden King, but could do nothing to reach him, now matter how strong the compulsion. Once again, the Sword was fed with the flesh of the dead-made-alive, and it toppled the Cup that had made them so. 

Even once the battle had been fought and won, the Sword knew not the hands of the Golden King. The Enchanter carried it far from him, and the Magic of the Sword riled against this, furious that its destiny was out of its reach. The Enchanter felt the anger, but did not relent. In the depths of the Woods he found the Stone, and with his power plunged the Sword into its embrace.

The Sword knew fire and its fury. It knew water and its mutability. It did not know Stone.

At first the Sword hated its prison with all the fury of the flame from which it was born. Its steel, its Magic called out for the sweet variability of the water. 

In time, the Sword quietened. It listened. And it learnt.

From the Stone with Sword learnt constancy. It learnt patience. It learnt stability. It learnt to rely and be reliable. And, unlike the Fire and the Water and the Lady, the Stone learnt too, for though it had the Magic of the Enchanter it knew nothing but Earth. For the first time the Sword not the student; it was the equal. Their knowledge and experience was shared, Magic flowing like Water, passionate as Fire, dependable as Stone. 

Together they learnt love. The Sword and the Stone gained unity, and it was glorious.

Years later and all too soon the Enchanter returned, and with him came the Golden King. The Sword knew what this meant, and cried out against it even as its Magic reached out in eagerness. The Stone knew, and it cried out even as it let go.

The Sword separated with the Stone.

Albion was made one.

The Stone waited.

Albion was lost.

The Stone waited.

The Sword was lost.

The Stone waits still.


End file.
